S T A R L I G H T

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 7 - There is nothing more powerful than a man in love

~You have me~

"Asteraêa," He whispered, bright silver eyes filling to the brim with tears as he looked upon the unconscious elleth.

"Ada?" Legolas stepped forward, looking up at his father before back to the fallen elleth. With blue eyes brighter than the stars he gazed down taking in the features that had his father so captivated.

The side of her cheek had a gash and blood was slowly seeping through, he caused that, but she was as beautiful if not more since the last day he saw her. She looked in pain as she struggled for each breath, clearly the fall had caused her more damage than visible. Her light and white hair were splayed all around her perfect yet bruised face, pale skin slightly blemished, but it was her ears that were a truly terrifying sight. They were not pointed, instead mangled and rounded, her entire helix was black and bruised. Whoever had done this was making a statement. A painful statement.

All thirteen dwarves who were once fighting against the guards stopped and stared up at the woodland king before them. His eyes were almost glazed over as he stared down at their newfound elvish friend.

"Nin Aran?" One of the woodland Kings many soldiers questioned the king who was now in his own world. The king's mind clouded with only one thought, the woman in front of him. No being in the room moved, each as still as the dead trees that surrounded the woods of Mirkwood.

"Ada? Who is Asteraêa?" Legolas questioned once more, noticing how his fathers eyes could not be torn away.

"Ed." His voice rang loudly throughout the throne room, startling almost everyone in the room. But nobody moved. As his voice echoed, nobody moved a muscle. As Thranduil, the Elven King of Mirkwood stared down at the tortured elleth, his soldiers staring at the scene in front of them as well. Without looking up, Thranduil repeated but only louder, "ED!"

The dwarves stepped back slightly, startled by his loud tone as was everyone else. Never had any of the elves here today ever heard their king raise his voice so suddenly. Nevertheless, as soon as he uttered the word, everyone in the room quickly scattered out. The dwarves still fighting against their restraints as they were pulled out of the room and away from their beloved new friend.

Legolas stayed put, looking up at his father with uncertainty.

"Legolas, cin gar- na glenn." The father spoke to the son without a look of acknowledgement. Legolas only nodded, obediently walking out after one last look at the collapsed elf. Who was she? And why did she look so familiar? Not only look, but she made him feel familiarity. Feel home.

The elven king's gaze did not waver. The doors hastily shut, and at that moment he descended the stair, hesitantly. His emotions were uncontrollable, on one hand he wanted to jump from the throne and hold her close to him but he feared if he moved too fast she would disappear.

Yet when he reached her he couldn't help but drop to his knees beside her. Touching her cheek with his slender fingers so lightly it was as if we were afraid she would break beneath his touch. Flinching only slightly once he felt her breath on his fingers. "Melleth nin amon' i tinu whui are cin in hi dór?" He whispered under his breath, only to move closer to her until both his hands were on either of her light pink cheeks, staring into what he would always remember to be her hypnotising blue eyes. His eyes could not stop retracing every aspect of her. Her hair. Her brows. Her cheeks. Her lips. Her ears. Yes, she was alive. But at what cost? His fingers traced the cut upon her cheek, guilt seeping inside him. If he had known it was her he would have never caused her such pain.

He could not leave her here.

Sucking in a deep breath, the elven king tucked one hand underneath her thick locks until they met her neck, before finally reaching between her shoulder blades. Not failing to notice the slight wince of pain that left her lips when he did. His other hand carefully moved down to her legs, before holding under her knees and picking her up, holding her some-what tightly to his chest. White hair slipping over his arms. The golden armour was heavy, but a weight he was willing to bear.

Turning on his heel, head held high, Thranduil marched out of the throne room, choosing the paths he knew little to no other elves walked through. They did not need to see her like this or their king, who struggled to keep his emotions at bay.

Thranduil made it to the secret entrance to his chambers, striding in quickly. As careful as he could, like holding glass, he gently placed her on the large bed covered in the best silks and animal skins.

The blonde elleth murmured, twitching in her sleep, in pain, but the way she was moving made it clear it was not her face causing her so much pain.

Thranduil's brow furrowed as he looked on at his beloved, fingers finding the clasps which kept the armour in place. When she had stolen the armour she had not done up every clasp the armour had, so it was quickly undone. He peeled the sheet of armour from her, his mouth becoming dry upon seeing the wounds and blood seeping through the scrappy brown fabrics she used as clothes.

She was covered in dirt, grime and blood, her hair mangled and tangled... If this is how she looked he could only imagine how she had lived. What she had been through.

The king tended to her wounds, taking off the rest of the golden armour and wrapping the healing wounds before leaving her be, relishing in furs on the bed as she used to so many centuries ago. Gently he placed another fur on top of her, watching as she simply melted into the fur.

She looked so peaceful now. When she had fallen she looked to be in so much pain that it felt unbearable to see her lying at the bottom. It made him feel as if he were watching her die in front of his eyes once more.

He could only imagine the damage she had sustained, hidden by magic, much like his own scars.

The sacrifice she made that day was one mothers proclaim to do if ever given the chance, but she had actually done it. Thranduil couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better for her to have died, the visible scars were bad, he couldn't imagine the hidden ones.

The back of his fingers followed the strands of her hair, caressing her forehead but never touching the wound.

He could have stood there for hours for all he knew. It didn't matter. His Queen was finally home, and yet two thoughts still plagued his mind.

She attacked him. Fought for the dwarves. Acted as if he was just another opponent and not the ellon she was once married to. Had they deceived her, spreading lies and turning her against him? No. She would never. But, alas, what was it? And Legolas, what was he to tell his son? Whenever Legolas had questioned about his mother, Thranduil was short and shut him down, believing her dead. He had never told Legolas for his own selfish reasons and now he was to learn everything.

He didn't know what else to do but gaze at her sleeping peacefully. He had mourned her. He died inside when she was gone. What was he to do now? All he could was to mourn the time lost.






Translations:

"Melleth nin amon' i tinu whui are cin in hi dór?"

- my beloved among the star why are you in this land

"Legolas, cin gar- na glenn."

- Legolas you must go